Like the Tendrils of a Dream
The moon is bright
Still hanging high
On the last threads
Of the fleeing night
There is a sorrowful cry
From a distant bird
Slowing spiralling
Into the heavens
The sky
Is blushing rose
And a morning mist
Sits heavy over all
Soon to melt and vanish
With the sun
The dew is touched
With the first gold
Of the day
As the darkness
Slips away
Beyond reach
Slender threads
Bleeding into the horizon
Like the tendrils
Of a dream
I feel that ache
That familiar pain
And like that lonely bird
I wish my memories
Of you
Ever sweet and bright
Would fade
And pass so easily
© Ann Bagnall 2015.
Annie, This is so lovely ❤️ Alice Sent from my iPhone
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Thank you Alice – I am so glad you enjoyed your visit 🙂
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This is sp beautiful!
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Thank you 🙂
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